


Typhoid Mary

by confiscatedretina



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 11:29:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3935164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confiscatedretina/pseuds/confiscatedretina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sufferer's revolution is at hand. This time it will not fail. It has, in fact, already succeeded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Typhoid Mary

The Helmsman is coughing up blood. You watch it dribble down his chin in thick, ropy strands and think that it barely even looks like blood. After a life prolonged innumerable sweeps beyond nature's intent, you suppose that's not too surprising. The virus tends to thicken plasma near the end, too. It's fascinating, in a way, that your own ancestor isn't immune. Maybe he would have been if he weren't her slave. Regardless, your work here is almost done.

A static buzz comes to life between your horns, slowly resolving into a voice.

“...-aptor? Repeat: progress report, Captor?”

“Hey, KK,” your voice is heavy, a sign you've been in the auxiliary helm rig too long. “I think she'th dead. It'th gone quiet here on the bridge and 'Tuna'th coughing up blood.”

Gurgling, wheezing laughter from the Helmsman punctuates your words. “Yeeeeeethhhh...finally...”

“Good. The helm is usually the last to go and that one can't die while the sea bitch is still alive.”

“Yeah,” somewhere far away an alarm pings in the imperial vessel unattended. “You guyth comin' to get me thoon? It'th kinda eerie in here.”

Silence. Then: “Sollux. I'm sorry.”

Your eyes fly open and lethargy lifts under the flood of adrenaline, your claws flexing at the bio cables holding you in place. There's not a damn thing you can do. “KK, what'th going on?”

“We're underway now. The numbers are back: it's spreading unchecked through the populous on the core worlds and they're starting to take it to out-systems. Within another perigee the non-mutant populations should be decimated sufficiently for us to make our move.”

You hate it when he talks like this, the cold and calculating Sanguine. It's not the Karkat you remember, the troll boiling over with passion and fury. You don't know what changed him in the sweeps after Ascension but there was enough of your old friend left to drag you into rebellion with his ragtag cult when you met as adults. Maybe you should have listened to your digestion sack and let Vriska cull you the way she had Eridan two sweeps back on Karkat's orders. 

His crew had salvaged you from a ghost ship, the only troll left alive in the wake of a devastating plague. Only now have all the pieces come together.

“I hate doing this, Sollux, you know I do,” he murmurs.

“Sure, KK. I bet,” something is quietly hissing like the sound of breathable air being vented into space. “You're welcome for all that programming and the viral bathse for your awethome plague, thee you 'round.”

“It had to be this way, you know it!” there's a tinge of that fury you miss. “You know too much. The empire can't get their claws into your pan or we're all fucked.”

“Yeah, I gueth,” your breathe plumes in front of your face; ice crystals are starting to form on Mituna's chin. “Pleathe tell me you're at leatht gonna take care of Vrithka.”

“I'm taking care of everyone. Vriska's being dealt with now.”

There's a wet cracking sound, metal striking flesh, and a voice whimpers piteously. You know he's smiling, serene, cobalt streaked over his hands.

“Jethuth, KK.”

“I thought you'd want it this way after everything she did. Vriska, say goodbye.”

You didn't think you'd ever get to hear her beg. The scream that cuts off those hoarse words makes your head hurt.

“If it's any consolation, Sollux,” he sounds far too pleased with himself, “hypoxia is a very gentle way to go out. You'll fall asleep in another few minutes and that's it.”

“How nithe,” you do feel tired now that he's brought it up. “Hey KK?”

“Yeah?”

“You think Fef'th gonna be a good empreth?”

When he finally answers his voice is quiet and sad. “Yeah, I do. I hope she can stop me.”

Spots are dancing in front of your eyes now, flashes of painful light flaring between them. You can feel your body dragging at the bio wires but it doesn't hurt.

“You're an athhole, KK,” you slur after another minute.

“I know,” without a trace of defensiveness or hurt. “Goodbye, Sollux. Thank you.”

You exhale and can't inhale.

“...bye...”

**Author's Note:**

> So basically I know too much about really morbid things and my friend Margie joked that some of them could be combined into a Homestuck fic. :D Have the prerequisite serial killer, infectious disease, implied bees, and some Helios Airways flight 522 as a bonus. Don't, uh...don't look up any of those things (except bees; bees are great).


End file.
